


To Love a King

by Fanfic_Royalty



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rating: M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-09 15:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfic_Royalty/pseuds/Fanfic_Royalty
Summary: After being forced to take up Asylum in Wakanda after the events of Civil War, Sam attempts to sort out his feelings for a certain King while Steve struggles with his feelings for Bucky and Bucky's remaining Hydra programming. Slow burn, updated regularly (at least weekly) Fluff, Angst, and (eventual) smut!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! this is my very first fanfic, although i have been writing in general for a while. This will be updated regularly. I have no beta, so please correct any mistakes in the comments. Feedback is welcome (Please be nice :) )  
> -S

How did things go so wrong? Sam laid in bed after yet another sleepless night contemplating that very question. The early morning light streamed in the window, edging its way across the room to greet him, but he ignored it. 3 weeks in a shitty prison in the middle of the ocean, 3 weeks thinking he would never see the sky again, 3 weeks of torture and pain, wondering when it all would end. Sam winced, running his hand gently along the mostly faded bruises on his ribs.  
Steve had rescued him, sure, but what was there left to go back to? The United States had branded them terrorist conspirators and treasonous. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth; he had been proud to be a veteran, a war hero, and then even an Avenger… but all of that was gone now. He was a man without a country.  
He threw the covers aside, noting his damp shirt. It could have been the Wakandan heat, or more nightmares from his time in the Raft, and some, not many but still some, from his days at war. He sighed. This was as good of a time as any to go for an early morning run. Maybe it would clear his head, at least.  
He dragged himself out of bed and changed into plain exercise clothes before stealing off to the courtyard of the palace. After the debacle, Black Panther had graciously allowed the now fugitives to take refuge in his palace. ‘A repayment,’ the handsome king had said, ‘for the times you saved earth, and for fighting for truth even when it meant turning away from all you knew.’  
As much as he missed the United States, Sam had to admit Wakanda was beautiful. The technology was elegant and enchanting, and the greenery was lush and exotic, especially compared to his home in DC. An added bonus, of course, was the attractiveness of the King, T’Challa. Ever since the first fight with Black Panther, Sam had been captivated by the man. Given all that had occurred, however, he hadn’t exactly had time to think too deeply into this.  
The climate of Wakanda was a challenge to adjust to, and Sam often found he sweated completely through his shirt on these runs. They were the best remedy for clearing his head, though, so he ran.   
His troubles seemed to melt away under the rhythmic footfalls, and after several laps of the courtyard, Sam felt much more at ease. “On your left!” He heard from the side, and he swatted as Steve ran by. Steve was tired, but still going through the motions of normalcy. The light in his eyes hadn’t quite been the same since his break from the avengers, and he grew more and more hopeless as Scarlet Witch failed to completely wipe the Hydra training from Bucky’s mind. This left his best friend in cryo, which was really wearing him down.   
It didn’t make Steve any less of an overachieving ass though.   
Sam speed up, attempting to catch up with the super soldier. Cap hadn’t been training as much, preferring to spend long periods of time moping and watching over Bucky, but he was still an enhanced human, and there was no amount of training that could help Sam catch him.   
He sighed and began to return to his normal pace when he heard footsteps behind him.   
“Oh, hell no!” He said, sticking his foot out to trip the overpompous ass. Instead, T’challa, king of Wakanda, leapt over the foot with ease and skidded to a stop beside him.   
“That is an… interesting way to greet your host,” T’Challa said, and Sam felt his face grow warm. T’challa looked even more fine in his tightly fitted workout gear than in his panther suit, and that was saying something. Then again, Sam had found himself staring more than a little at T’Challa since seeing him in the Black Panther suit (hot damn), though he was too busy being stressed about Bucky Barnes to be questioning his sexuality.  
“I thought you were someone else.” Sam said, apologetic.   
“On your left!” Steve called, running past the pair. T’challa glanced as he went by.   
“I am assuming you meant that for him?” He smirked, and Sam tried not to stare at the enduring look. “It’s a good thing you have… cat-like reflexes.”  
A grin spread across T’Challa’s face. “Yet another cat-pun, Mr. Wilson?”  
“Of course,” Sam scoffed. “And just Sam is fine.”  
“Well, ‘just Sam’, you appear to be better suited to flying than running.” The king turned and started jogging again, leaving Sam smiling and flushed slightly. He started running as well, tired, but appreciating the rear view of the King. That ass was sinful, and he was surprised with sudden, graphic thoughts of how the warrior king would look naked.  
Sam shook his head, his face hot with embarrassment. T’Challa was royalty, he shouldn’t be thinking things like that about him. He slowed and walked quickly to his room, in need of a very cold shower.  
He bumped into Wanda in the hall, mumbling an apology as he rushed by.  
“Jeez, Sam, keep it in your pants,” She teased after laughing, clearly having sensed his emotions. He grumbled as he walked away, face still hot with embarrassment.   
‘How did it all come to this?’ he wondered, standing under the spray of a cold shower. A wanted man without a country, crushing hard on the only person keeping him safe. Brilliant.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold shower helped only to wash him off his sweat. Unfortunately, his thoughts remained very much encaptured by a certian king. Sighing, Sam dried off with a towel, wrapping it around his waist as he walked out into the room he was staying in. It was simple, basically sparse since he had come with nothing but the clothes on his back. He pulled on some casual clothes, heading out into the space he shared with the other fugative avengers. Scott was still sleeping, as he always seemed to be, but Clint and Wanda were awake and at the table in the kitchen. Wanda spoke in hushed tones, but stopped once she saw Sam.  
"Feeling better?" She teased. Sam rolled his eyes, but he smiled at her nevertheless. She had taken a while to come back out of her shell since the Raft, and he was just glad she was feeling better. Clint gave him a knowing smirk.  
"If you were feeling lovestruck, you coulda asked 'ol cupid for advice," Clint teased.  
"Really now?" Sam said to Wanda, motioning to Clint.  
"Like I didn't tell you about him and Widow," she said, and it was Clint's turn to be embarassed.  
"You told him?!"  
"Like you two weren't already making bedroom eyes. Besides, it didn't even take my power to figure it out, she calls you "dearest" in russian." She smirked, turning away to search through the fridge.  
"You're despicable." Clint said, stealing the fruit she picked out of her hands and taking a bite. Sam chuckled at how domestic it was.  
The door to their quarters slid open with a quiet hiss, and they all turned quickly, still jumpy from their time on the Raft.  
One of the Dora Milaje, the King's women guards, stood in the doorway.  
"His highness wishes to see Mr. Wilson, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barton in his study." She said in her thick Wakandan accent. She exited, and the door slid closed again. Clint looked over at Sam, his eyebrow raised.  
"Looks like we're going to see your boyfriend,"

T'Challa's study was magnificent: fancy mohaganny desk and brilliant view of the city beyond the jungle that surronded the palace. 'T'Challa,' Sam thought, 'was the real view here.' The Wakandan King was dressed in his Black Panther suit, except the mask. Sam gulped. The suit fit him like a second skin, hugging every bit of the muscled man. Sam struggled to keep his eyes from wandering as the handsome king spoke.  
"Friends, I have troubling news."  
'You're voice and suit are the troubling thing,' Sam thought bitterly.  
"A small faction of the White Gorilla Clan is attempting to undermine my power by attacking your presence here. They are claiming that it is I taking sides in foriegn conflicts."  
Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Do you wish us to leave?" He sounded scared, and Sam thought about him being seperated from Bucky.  
"No." The King said quickly, his eyes flitting to Sam for a moment. Sam and Steve let out a sigh of relief. "I will, however, need a favor."  
"Anything," Steve said. "We owe so much for your hospitality."  
"There are looters that try to steal from the vibrainium mines. If the fugative avengers and the Black Panther stopped them, perhaps the Wakandan people would look more favorably upon you."  
Fight beside Black Panther? " I'll get my wings," Sam blurted out quickly.  
Steve smiled. "We'd be happy to help."  
T'Challa nodded, pleased. "I was hoping that Scarlet Witch would continue her work with Mr. Barnes in our absence, with Mr. Lang to keep her company." Steve nodded quickly.  
"Of course."  
"We will depart in an hour. Meet me on the roof."


	3. Chapter 3

"We will split into two pairs. I will work with Falcon," T'Challa said, motioning to Sam, who could barely hide his excitement. Clint winked at him, and Sam glared. "And the Captian and Hawkeye will be the other pair." He finished, oblivious to Sam and Clints silent arguement.   
"What's our plan of attack?" Steve asked, glaring at sam and Clint to knock it off.  
"Sam and I will go from the right, and you will go from the left, so that we pack them together and surround them."  
Sam felt a swell of pride that T'Challa had remembered to use his first name. The jet they were in landed shortly after, and exited into the jungle. The trees were dense, and Sam felt the heat instantly.  
"The mine is a mile north. We will take this path, and you two will go on the path right there." T'Challa said, before turning and stalking off toward the mine. Sam followed, his eyes helplessly following T'Challa's muscled back down to his ass.   
Sam made a strangled noise in his throat, and felt his face grow warm in embarrasment. After several minutes, T'Challa's ass was forgotten as Sam began to sweat from the heat.  
The King looked back at him, still maskless, and smirked.   
"Do birds not enjoy the heat?" He questioned.  
" Hey! A bird joke? Well well well, the king does have a sense of humor." Sam chuckled.  
"You may call me T'Challa, Sam." The man said, smiling warmly. Sam felt himself returning the smile earnestly.  
"I'm surprised cats enjoy the heat, all bundled up under all that fur." Sam said, motioning to T'Challa's suit.   
"The suit has a set internal tempurture. It does not affect me whether it is warm or cold."  
"Lucky." Sam scoffed.   
"Not luck, technology."   
They walked in easy silence for a few minutes before Sam spoke again.   
"So, this white Gorilla clan doesn't like you very much, huh?"  
"My father outlawed eating the meat of the White Gorilla, because the animal was almost gone. They have not been happy with the king since."   
Sam nodded.   
As the trees grew less dense, Sam felt less suffocated by the heat. There was still almost no breeze, but he could manage.   
"We grow close to the mine." T'Challa said quietly, and Sam slowed, keeping behind him. He could see the mine ahead: a major hole in the side of a rocky mountian, surronded by machinary. He could see people by the enterance, lugging out unrefined vibranium.   
"There. Those are the looters." T'Challa said quietly, unshealthing his claws. Sam tensed, his wings ready. He hadn't flown in a while, but he knew it was like riding a bike.   
"Let's go," T'Challa said, moving forward. Sam saw the trap a second too late, and reached out to pull T'Challa back. He was too late, and the king was hit with an electric shock from the wire he had stepped on. Sam stupidly tried to grab him, to pull him away, but the touch sent the shock through his body as well. He fell, everything going dark around him.

 

 

 

He awoke much later, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. He blinked, clearing his vision, and saw that T'Challa laid across his chest, unmoving. The suit was gone, and he wore tight black pants that remibded him of leggings and a fitted black t shirt. Ignoring the urge to stare at hia butt, he rolled out from under the king, careful not to throw him to the ground. He looked around, taking in the cell around him. They were underground, probably in the mine itself. T'Challa stirred beside him, and Sam turned to him. The king sat up quickly, ready to pounce.  
"Hey, easy there, tiger." T'Challa smiled slightly at him begore looking more closely at their surrondings.   
"It was a trap." He said slowly, his words dark with rage. "These were no looters. This was a set up."  
Sam nodded. His wings were gone, but he could feel his backup gun strapped to his back under his shirt. Evidently, they hadn't checked him very thoroughly. He was about to tell this to T'Challa when someone approuched their cell.   
The man spoke in Wakandan, and T'Challa snarled in Wakandan back. The man speaks again, and T'Challa translates for Sam.  
"He wants me off the throne, and he needs the location of my sister."  
"You have a sister?"   
"Yes, and she is in line for the throne. If they want to vote in a new king, preferably from their own clan, they have to end the reigning monarchy."  
T'Challa says something low in Wakandan that needs no translation for it's meaning to be understood. The man says something else before spitting in T'Challa's face. As soon as the man is gone, he wipes it away with his shirt, and Sam catches a glimse of tonned abs under the shirt. T'Challa stands, strecthing his legs. The cell is small, so there isn't enough room to walk around much, but the man seems content with simply standing. Sam tries to ignore the bulge that is at eyelevel with him now. 'Those pants should be illegal.' Sam thinks.

"They may try to torture me for the information." T'Challa says. "If you see the chance, escape. I will slow them as much as possible. Tell the Dora Milaje, they will take care of the traitors."  
Sam's mouth feels dry. "What about you?" He asks.  
T'Challa shakes his head. "Do not worry about me."  
'Too late,' Sam thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the romance is actually going to pick up now ;)   
> And of course Stucky will be making an appearance!
> 
> Comment any feedback!!!
> 
> -S

"Where the hell are they?" Steve growled, slamming his fist on the desk. The Dora milaje who spoke didn't even flinch.  
"That's what we are working on." She pursed her lips. "We will be doing everything in our power to make sure they return, unharmed." Her eyes darkened. "And to punish those responsible."  
Steve and Clint had escaped unscathed, being picked up in the jet minutes after contact was cut off between the dora Milaje and Black Panther. It had been nearly 7 hours, and they hadn't made any progress in locating them.  
"If it was the looters, they would have demanded a ransom by now." Clint said. "What about that clan that he spoke of earlier? The white Gorilla Clan?"  
The Dora Milaje looked uncomfortable.   
"I would not like to say it is them, but there is a high probability." She said carefully. "We've put the King's sister into hiding to protect the royal bloodline."  
Steve nodded.   
"Do you need any help from the remaining avengers?" The woman shook her head.  
"Not until we plan to rescue them."  
The door to the office burst open, and Scott came running inside. "Steve!" He gasped, out of breath. "It's Bucky."  
Steve was running before he finished processing the words. He shoved Scott out of the way, ignoring his welp of "Holy shit," and took off down the corridor.  
He tore across the facility and into the lab where Bucky was being held. He walked in to see Wanda talking to a now awake Bucky while he sat on the edge of a hospital bed.  
"Hey, I was wondering when your star spangled ass would show up." Bucky said, grinning. Steve nearly tackled him in a bear hug while Wanda laughed giddily.  
"I was going about it the wrong way." She laughed. " the trick was to focus on him remembering instead of forgetting."   
Steve ignored her, burying his face in Bucky's shoulder to hide his tears.  
"You alright, capsicle?"  
Syeve chuckled, pulling back from the hug and wiping his eyes. "Remind me why I missed you?"  
"Ouch. That's a low blow from Mr. America."  
Wanda got up, blushing slightly.   
"I will leave you two alone to catch up, alright?" She said, leaving the room. She walked down the hallway, laughing. She had seen much of Bucky's mind, and she knew just how much he thought of doing dirty things to him, even before the serum. She reddened, remebering some of the particularly... inventive thoughts. Sometimes she wished she didn't sense her team members lust for each other. It made everything so distracting.

 

 

The man returned some time later to the cell. Sam glared at him from his seat in the back corner of the cell. His hand twitched, instinctively reaching for the gun, but T'Challa stilled him with a hand over his. Sam felt his face grow warm at the gesture.  
He spoke in Wakandan to T'Challa, who translated to Sam. "He is asking if he needs to resort to... unpleasantries to get the information he desires." The King answers in Wakandan, a dangerous look in his eye. The man growls something back, and unlocks the cage. Immediately, Sam's hand moves again but T'Challa grabs it, squezzing his hand gently. Sam nods subtly.

The man points a gun at Sam and yells something at T'Challa, who stands on nods, putting his body between the gun and Sam. Sam's brain goes blank when he sees T'Challa so close to the gun, close to being shot. He holds his breath, watching them exist the cell-no, cage.   
The man brings the King over to where a small crowd has gathered, and seats him in a metal chair. He watches as he handcuffs him, once to bind his wrists together and once to bind him to the chair.   
The man says something in Wakandan again, and T'Challa spits at him. The man winds up and punches T'Challa in the face. Sam exhales, needing air, and...   
And he had forgotten T'Challa was an enhanced human.   
The man winces, his shakimg his hand, and T'Challa smiles. His smile is gone when the man picks up a piece of wood and winds back.  
Sam can't hear anything over his own screams.

 

 

Bucky sits at the table next to Steve, aware of the heavy feeling in the room. Sam, happy earlier from Bucky's sudden awakening, is worried about Sam and T'Challa. He doesn't eat, instead pushing his food away and staring toward the door. Wanda gives bucky a hopeful smile, trying to help him feel more normal. He skiles back at her. She's russian, like all those that wiped him and brainwashed him, but she fixed him, pulling out forgotten memories and making Hydra's precious words nothing but that: words. Clint paces nervously by the window, wringing his hands. Steve sighs, leaning back in his chair, his thight leaned against Bucky's. Bucky grins at this, and is about to make his move when Wanda goes bright red and excuses herself quickly. Bucky remembers her mind abilities and blushes as well.   
"Is there a shower here?" Bucky says, trying to break the silence. "I haven't shampooed in, like, forever."  
Steve looks at him, blinking to clear his thoughts. "Yeah, you can use the one in my room. First door on the left."  
Bucky gets up, smiling slightly. 'Staying in Steve's room? Don't mind if I do.'  
Besides, he had some urgent business to attend to in that shower, or else he was going to jump Steve's bones before he told him how he felt.

 

 

Sam's voice is raw and hoarse by the time T'challa is returned to the cell. The King slumps tiredly against the cell door as he enters, before leaning against Sam.   
"I pickpocketted the guard," he whispers, slipping something into Sam's back pocket. Sam tries to ignore the pull in his groin from T'challa groping his ass.

Once the door is locked, Sam eases T'challa down onto their knees, wiping away traces of blood gently.   
"I am alright, I was merely acting worse off to seem less of a treat to the guards." T'Challa said in a low voice. Sam looked at his face, his bleeding nose and swollen eye, and tried not to let tears rise to his eyes.  
"You're yelling did make things... dificult for me." T'Challa winced. "I... did not realize you would be so objected to seeing me in pain." Sam stared.  
"I've just watched you be tortured, don't... don't make this about me." Sam realised his hand was cupping T'Challa's face from when he had wiped some of the blood off. He went to move it but was instead frozen by T'Challa's hands on his waist and his lips on his.   
It wasn't a long kiss, although anything could have happened and Sam would not have cared. His lips moved gently against the handsome kings before he pulled away.  
"Is this why you were objected?" T'Challa whispered, his breath hot on Sam's face. Sam made a stangled noise before fisting his hands into T'Challa's shirt and kissing him deeply. Sam let his tongue tease T'Challa's bottom lip, asking silent permission. The other man granted it, letting his tongue slip inside his mouth with a soft gasp. Their tongues danced lanquidly until a sound broke them apart, both breathing heavily and feeling very warm.  
The sound came from a guard, knocking on the bars.  
He complained in Wakandan. T'Challa hissed something back, and the man looked angry, storming away.  
"What did you s-" Sam began before T'Challa attacked his lips, nipping gently at Sam's bottom lip before slipping his tongue into Sam's mouth. He broke for a moment, panting.   
"Later." The man simply said before pulling Sam close by the waist, pressing against him. Sam let out a moan at being pressed against T'Challa's now growing bulge. He deepened the kiss, hands slipping down to grab that ass that had been so distracting to him earlier, but a shout broke them apart.  
It was the man from earlier, storming across the facility to them. He did not look pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, first kiss!   
> I hope you guys are enjoying this half as much as I enjoy writing it!
> 
> Comments are welcome and appreciated :)
> 
> -S


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some more stucky and some smut ;)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> -S

The man started shouting in Wakandan, and T’Challa started shouting back. He pulled Sam behind him, protectively. The man wrenched open the cage door, and pointed a gun at T’Challa.  
Sam froze. “What do they want?” He asked helpless, holding onto T’Challa’s arm.   
“You.” T’Challa’s voice trembled. Sam nodded, and carefully slipped whatever T’Challa had put in his back pocket into the waistband of the tight black pants that T’Challa wore. He also unclipped the gun from where it was strapped to his back and set in on the ground silently behind T’Challa, where it was out of view.   
“n-no, Sam, no,” T’Challa looked frightened, truly frightened. Sam had never seen him look like that before.   
The man grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling him to the chair. They handcuffed him the same way, and Sam felt his breathing get shallow.   
When he was at the Raft, they didn’t chain him up during torture. They beat him, sure. But no handcuffs, no metal chair, no bloody plank of wood.  
The man shouted at T’Challa in Wakanden, making some sort of threat. T’Challa shouted at them, and he looked different than before. He wasn’t angry and dangerous. He was scared and pleading.   
The man turned around and socked Sam in the stomach. Sam exhaled, feeling the fresh hit along with so many mostly faded bruises. T’Challa screamed something in Wakanden.   
Another hit. And another. Sam grunted, trying to act unaffected for T’Challa’s sake. He took a deep, shaky breath, and then smiled up at the man.   
“I could do this all day.”  
The man opened his mouth to answer and was met with a bullet. The man fell, and the guards looked around, scrambling. The cage door was open, and the Wakanden King was nowhere to be found.   
Sam laughed. “Looks like you guys let the cat out of the bag.”  
More shots rang out, and then Sam saw T’Challa, leaping from shadow to shadow, taking down the guards with unnerving grace. When the facility was clear, T’Challa unlocked the handcuffs with a key he swiped off one of the guards. As soon as he was free, Sam wrapped his arms around T’Challa and collapsed into his arms.   
He was shaking. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been until it was over. T’Challa clutched him tightly to himself. He muttered soft things in Wakanden, and Sam silently promised himself to learn it if for no other reason than to understand those soft words in his ears. 

 

 

Steve still laid awake in his bed. He could hear Bucky breathing, and he was so close he could touch him. How many times had he wished for this? For Bucky to be alive again, for Bucky to be himself again? And now that he was here, Steve felt frozen.   
He loved Bucky. He knew that, that much was simple. The complicated came when he didn’t know how he loved him anymore. He wanted to hold him, but was that because he missed him? He wanted to kiss him, or was that his body projecting it’s lonliness?  
Did he love Bucky, or the only person who understood what it was to be lost in time?  
Bucky shifted in bed next to him, and Steve sighed. He should have taken the couch, and said no when Bucky insisted that they share the bed. ‘I’m not taking Sam’s bed for the night,’ Bucky had said. ‘These are king sized beds, they’re plenty big enough.’  
Maybe he did love him, Steve thought, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe he wanted to be a couple. Would the world accept that? Would America, if it ever wanted him back, accept that?  
Since when did he need someone else’s acceptance?  
“Bucky.” Steve said.   
“Hmmmmmmm.” Said the sleep laced reply. Steve sat up. He had already waken him, might as well finish.   
“Bucky.” He said again. Bucky rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes, before running his hand through his hair sleepily. He pushed himself up on his one arm, looking tiredly at Steve.   
“Yeah, Steve?”  
“I… I wanted to say… I… I think…” Steve sighed. “Fuck it.”  
He grabbed James Buchanan Barnes on either side of his face, and kissed him.   
Bucky had never responded to anything more enthusiastically in his life, breaking the kiss to climb right into Steve’s lap, and using his arm to pull the man closer.  
The kiss got deeper in seconds, going from Steve trying to voice something he couldn’t say from the two of them pouring their hearts out to each other, trying to show every word that had gone unsaid in movements of tongue, a tight grasp, a little gasp at a nip at the lip.  
“Steve.” Bucky moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss to start of Steve’s neck, kissing open mouthed and wet and sucking hickeys that would heal in minutes. Hands tangled in shirts, trying to pull closer, until shirts came off, and calloused hands explored softer skin. Bucky kissed down his chest, kissing a nipple until it pebbled before nipping it gently while toying with the other one. Steve let his hands trace down Bucky’s body until it reached the sweatpants he was wearing, tented with want. Steve sucked in a breath as he palmed the hard on, earning a hiss of pleasure from Bucky. Steve grabbed Bucky and rolled so he was on top of the man, kissing down his chest while sliding sweatpants and boxers off. Right before he reached his cock, Bucky grabbed Steve and pulled him up to kiss him deeply.   
“I love you.” Bucky said, his hand cupping Steve’s face. Steve grinned, and kissed Bucky again.   
“I love you too, Buck.” He said, and he slid down the bed, nestling between Bucky’s legs. He pressed sloppy kisses and love bites to Bucky’s thighs, and finally, finally, zeros in on his cock.   
Steve hasn’t had sex before. With a man, a woman, or anyone. But he knows what he wants Bucky to do to him, what he’s dreamed off him doing to him, and so Steve begins small. He kisses the tip of Bucky’s cock, tasting the salty precoma gathered at the tip. He licks, gently, tracing the head of his cock before sucking it into his mouth. Bucky’s cock is hot with blood, and is pleasantly thick while not being particularly long or short. Steve covers his teeth with his lips, and bobs his head so more of that cock fits in his mouth. It’s slow going, and Steve has to bob his head several times before Bucky’s cock is slick enough with spit that he can bob his head easily, taking in almost all of his cock before pulling out to the tip.  
Bucky is a mess, moaning curses and griping Steve’s hair with his one hand. Steve bobs his head earnestly, pleased to see Bucky’s reaction. He flicks his tongue along the bottom of Bucky’s cock, and he actually whimpers.   
“Steve… so, ahhh. So Close.” He pants, his hips moving a little as Steve bobs his head quickly. Steve speeds up a bit, eager to watch Bucky lose control. Bucky grunts, his hips shoving upward unexpectedly, and then he’s sighing, cumming down Steve’s throat.   
Steve winces at the taste at first, but the unpleasantness quickly fades and Steve finds its not too bad.   
He pulls of Bucky with a wet pop, and lies beside Bucky on the bed. Bucky’s eyes are still closed, his breath still coming in short gasps, and Steve plays with his hair gently, his own erection forgotten. Bucky has not forgotten, however, and turns to kiss the blonde man deeply while pushing down his sweatpants and boxers. He’s met with the sight of Steve’s reddened cock, long and decently thick.   
“Captain Overachiever as always,’ Bucky thinks for a moment, almost laughing. Of course Steve’s cock is massive, he doesn’t know what else he was expecting.   
Bucky reaches down and jerks him off a few times, watching Steve buck helplessly into the pleasure. Bucky grins, knowing this is his first time. He kisses Steve deeply before climbing on top of him and climbing down the bed to reach Steve’s cock. He spreads Steve’s legs, taking in the sight. ‘Someday,’ he thinks, ‘I’ll fuck Steve like this.’ But not today. Bucky leans down and licks a strip up Steve’s cock from base to tip. Steve shudders, watching him with wide eyes. Bucky smirks before trailing his tongue along the head of Steve’s cock, following the veins on the bottoms with his tongue until he hears Steve whimper and buck helplessly into the air. Bucky takes the tip into his mouth a gives Steve a gentle suck, which makes Steve cry out his name. He does it again, for a moment longer, and he feels Steve arch off the bed, completely in heaven over the new sensation. Bucky slowly sinks down on Steve’s cock until he’s as close to the base as he can reach, the tip of steve’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Bucky swallows, his throats squeezing Steve’s cock and almost making him cum then. Steve moans lewdly, and Bucky takes that as his cue to start bobbing his head, swirling his tongue around as he sucks. Steve pants and moans and after a few minutes, he can barely contain himself.   
“Buck, gonna… gonna cum.” He says, on the edge already. Bucky sinks down, as far as he can take Steve, and swallows once before Steve’s cumming.   
He gets up and lays next to Steve as he pants, still coming down from his high.   
“that was… amazing.” Steve pants, wrapping his arms around Bucky and pulling him close. “I love you.”  
“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Sam and T'Challa will get some too. Eventually.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated :)
> 
> -S


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Stucky and BlackFalcon!

Sam winced, leaning against the cool stone wall of the mine.  
"Can we take a break?" He asked T'Challa, who nodded, concerned.  
"Are you sure you are alright?" He asked gently, watching as Sam sat down, grimicing.  
"I'm okay, it's just." He blew out a breath as he poked his ribs with his finger, "I was still bruised up from the Raft." T'Challa nodded gravely.  
"I did not know you were injured from then. I would not have brought you on this mission."  
"Then we would not have made out." T'Challa chuckled, kneeling beside Sam, who leaned his head against the cool stone.  
"That is true." He said, touching Sam's face gingerly. He leaned forward and kissed Sam gently before pulling away.  
"How much further until we can regain communication with the Dora Milaje?" Sam asked, trying and failing to sit up on his own.  
"A half mile, probably."  
Sam grimaced. "Well, the faster we get there, the faster I can get a Tylenol." T'Challa pulled him to his feet, trying to ignore the welp of pain that Sam gave. He wrapped his arm around Sam, and tried to support some of his weight, but Sam pushed him off.  
"Nah, I'm okay."  
They walked in silence for a while, until they both heard beeping from the communicater T'Challa had brought.  
The king spoke into it quickly in Wakandan, and then grinned at Sam at the responce.  
"They can be here in 30 minutes."  
"A lot can happen in 30 minutes." Sam said, tasting the other man's smile.

 

Clint Barton had seen a lot of things during his time at Shield. He had seen the sky open up above New York, he had seen gods, and whatever the hell vision was. He was not a man easily surprised.  
He had not, EVER, expected to walk in on Captian America gagging on another guys dick.

He had raced through their quarters when the Dora Milaje had told him they were on their way to pick up the missing King and Sam, eager to tell Steve they were safe.  
He had burst through the door, saying "They found them, they're okay," but he stopped halfway through at the scene in front if him. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, while Steve was trying to deepthroat him.  
"WHAT THE FUCK." Clint shouted, backing out of the room and slamming the door. He leaned against the wall, thouroughly shaken.  
He heard a rush if movement, chicked laughter from Bucky, hissed words from Steve, and then Steve emerged, wearing jeans and pulling on a t-shirt.  
"They found them?" He asked, sounding relieved.  
Clint stared at him, his mouth hanging open.  
"Uhhhh. I'm sorry you saw that."  
Clint turned and walked down the hall silently, trying very hard to bleach his mind.

 

 

The hospital wing that Sam woke up in was unlike any he had seen before. There were more colors, unlike the bland white hospitals of America. He saw flowers on the table beside him, exotic purple flowers that he had never seen before. He looked down at himself, and saw white bandages wrapped around his ribs and part of his chest. He was hooked up to an IV, he noted, feeling the uncomfortable tug on his arm as he shifted.  
"Awake at last?" He heard a deep voice with a thick Wakandan accent ask. He looked over at T'Challa, who was sitting in a chair near the bed. He stood up and walked over to him. "Three broken ribs from the Raft, and two rebroken in the mine." He reached for Sam's hand, slotting their fingers together. "You could have been killed."  
"I've had worse." Sam said, squeezing T'Challa's hand. "How long was I out?"  
"A day. They needed to make sure all of your ribs were in the correct position for healing. Fortunately, Wakanda has medicine far more advanced than that of America, so yiur injuries should heal in about a week."  
Sam nodded. "Do you know who captured us?"  
T'Challa grimaced. "I believe it to be radicals of the White Gorilla clan, the very same that pushed me to bring you on that mission in the first place." He sighed. "We have no proof, however, and I cannot alienate the clan with baseless accusations. The important thing is that you are safe." He kissed him gently on the forehead.  
One of the Dora Milaje entered the room quickly, speaking Wakanden. T'Challa's sofy expression darkened. He spoke quickly back to her, before rubbing his forehead.  
"What is it? Another kidnapping?"  
"More difficult to remedy than that. He reached over, turning on the television. The screen lit up with a picture of them making out in the cell. Sam's hands were on the man's ass, and Sam smiled despite himself.  
"The public will not be pleased that I am with a non-wakanden without announcing it to the people." He sighed. "The clan may use this to try and ask for my resignation as King."  
Sam frowned. "I'm sorry." He said softly. He was answered with lips on his own.  
"Do not be sorry." T'Challa breathed, kissing him again. "I will have to present you to the public, and to the council to gain their approval." He stopped himself. "If you wish to, that is. You could choose to end... this," He finished quietly.  
Sam kissed him. "Whatever it takes."  
T'Challa smiled. "I hope that the public will not be too enraged that we were together before asking permission from the council."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome and appreciated! 
> 
> Balckfalcon smut is coming up :)
> 
> -S


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa needs to get his countries approval in order to date Sam, and needs to get to the bottom of whoever kidnapped them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took longer, I had a bit of writers block!  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments and subscriptions!!! 
> 
> -S

"Are you sure you want this?" T'Challa asked, smoothing his own tie out as he checked himself in the mirror.  
"For the hundreth time, yes," Sam said, rolling his eyes and giving his boyfriend (were they still boyfriends without the publics permission?) A peck on the cheek. T'Challa turned, capturung Sam's lips in a kiss. It didn't take long before it grew deeper, tongues sliding against each other and mapping out each others mouths. Breath grew more ragged, and Sam felt T'Challa's hands slipping down to the small of his back, pulling him closer so that he was flush against him. Sam moaned, pressing them together and letting his hamds slide back to grab his lover's ass. T'Challa reaponded by moving his lips to Sam's neck, earning a deep groan from him. Sam could feel the bulge in T'Challa's pants frowing, and moved to rub him through his trousers when a knock at the door shattered the mood suddenly.  
"Every fucking time." Sam mumbled, letting his hands fall to his sides. Someone, one of the Dora Milaje Sam presumed, spoke in Wakanden through the door. Sam reconized the beginning, it was something like "your highness," or "my king," but the rest escaped him. T'Challa sighed before answering.  
"We just can't catch a break, can we?" Sam said, leaning his head against his lovers chest. T'Challa kissed his forehead, smiling.  
"Hopefully this vote will change that." 

Sam was to be presented before the people of Wakanda today, and the council would vote on whether the King would be allowed to date an outsider. Sam was endlessly frustrated at this. "You're king!" He had said. "Can't you just make it legal for you to date an outsider?" T'Challa had laughed. "I do not wish to be a dictator."   
Fair enough.  
After waiting a few more minutes- probably so as not to walk out in front of the people with a raging erection, Sam noted, secretly smug- the pair walked into a massive press room. Sam was instantly blinded by hundreds of camera flashes and endless questions, in both wakanden or broken english.  
The dora Milaje cleared the way through the crowd up to the podium, and Sam gulped. Somehow, he preffered combat to this.  
A Dora Milaje stood next to Sam, acting as translator in case he was asked any questions. She smiled slightly at him. "I believe you will do just fine, Mr. Wilson." She said as he let out an anxious sigh. "The people are more interested in seeing their king happy than in tradition. Besides, you are an Avenger."  
"Ex-avenger." Sam winced.   
"A hero, nonetheless."  
"Thank you." He said quietly. At least someone still thought he was a hero, even if he was a traitor to his own country.  
T'Challa began speaking in Wakanden, and the Dora Milaje translated softly to Sam.  
"People of Wakanda," she began. "I am humbled yo present before you a man of great honor and intregrity." Sam blushed slightly. "He may not have been born in Wakanda, but he has bled for us. He endured torture for the sake of Wakanda, and fought for truth in the tragic passing of my father." She paused as T'Challa did. T'Challa took a moment before continuing. "This man has fought as a true warrior for justice and has saved countless lives. He is a man of honor and as such, has captured my heart." Sam felt breathless for a moment. If there weren't all these damn people around, he'd push T'Challa against the wall and kiss him senseless right here. "I now formally present Sam Wilson, Falcon of the American Avengers, to the council for approval of our courting."   
There were more pictures, and Sam felt hinself smiling as T'Challa turned to glance at him. They shared a smile and a few moments of eye contanct before the press began asking questions in Wakanden.   
T'Challa began answering a few, and the Dora Milaje translated them. Most were boring, variations on 'how long has this been going on,' kinds of questions, but one caught his attention.   
"Does Mr. Wilson plan on rejoining the Avengers? If so, does that create a pull on his loyalties?"   
T'Challa glanced at Sam, and Sam stuttered.  
"I-uh. At this time, I do not plan on rejoining due to uh-systematic differences that-that need heavy modification." The Dora Milaje translated, and Sam hopped ahe left out his uncertianty. Tchalla smiled at Sam, and he felt a bit calmer.   
There were a few more questions, thankfully not requiring Sam on any more of them, anr then the pair retreated back into the palace.  
"I think that went well." T'Challa said, and Sam grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him passionately. "What was that for?" T'Challa murmured as they broke apart.  
"For saying such nice things about me," Sam said.  
"What else is there to say?" T'Challa said, smirking.  
Sam grabbed his boyfriends hand and pulled him down the hall and into the King's quarters. He pushed T'Challa against the door, using him to ahut it behind them as he kissed him hungrily.  
"We got, interrupted, earlier." Sam said between kisses. T'Challa laughed, kissing Sam back.  
"I must've said somw really nice things."  
"Uh huh."  
Sam began unbuttoning T'Challa's shirt, and moved to kiss his neck. The taller man practically purrwd his delight.  
Sam stopped, snorting as he laughed. "You DO really like cats."  
"Shut up." T'Challa growled, flipping Sam so he was pinned against the wall. Sam whimpered and T'Challa kissed down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin of his throat. Sam shed his and T'Challa's shirts quickly, and let his hands roam over the heated flesh. He brushed heardened nipples, and teased them as Tchalla continued to kiss down his body, now past his chest and kissing down his ribs. Sam winced at the reminder of the broken bones he'd had just 1 week earlier. T'Challa didn't stop, though, and started kissing down Sam's stomach, tongue sneaking out to tease the warm flesh. T'Challa kneeled in front Sam, and Sam felt arousal pool in his groin at the sight.   
Sam groaned as T'Challa unbuttoned his pants, releasing some of the pressure on Sam's hard member. His pants were quickly shoved down around his ankles, and Sam hissed as T'Challa kissed his cock through his boxers. T'Challa statting to tug off Sam's boxers when a knock sounded at the door.  
"Fuck." Sam moaned, slamming his head back against the door.  
T'Challa spoke through the door, and then let out a string of english vurse words under his breath as the voice answered in Wakanden. He leaned his head against Sam's thigh, and Sam tried not to shudder at the feeling of his warm breath on his cock.  
"The council is prepared to cast their votes." T'Challa sighed, getting to his feet.  
"We aren't done with this." Sam said, giving Challa's cock a squeeze through his pants. T'Challa hissed, gripping Sam's arms.  
"We need to get ready for the vote." He gritred out, hips pushing into Sam's hand.  
"Yeah." Sam sighed. His hands dropped off T'Challa, and he bent over to pull up his pants. He buttoned his pants back up, hissing as he crammed his still hard cock into the pants, and pulling on his shirt and fumbling with the buttons.   
"Let's go." T'Challa said, looking uncomfortable in his now too tight pants but looking determined. "We do not want to keep the council waiting." 

The room was beautiful, a massive mostly glass room surronded by the lush, exotic jungle. The coucil members themselves, a diverse mix of men and women, were dressed in rich colors. They sat in expensive pews that reminded Sam of church.  
One woman, who was a leader of some sort based upon the positon of power she stood in up on the pedestal, spoke in Wakandan to hush the group. She spoke to T'Challa, and he asnwered her stifly. Sam felt the urge to hold his boyfriend's hand, for reassurance, but he resisted. The woman spoke to the group, and the voting began.  
The first few were yes, based upon T'Challa's facial expressions. These were followed by a few nos, and then a blend of each so much that Sam lost his mental tally of votes.  
T'Challa seemed anxious, and Sam felt himself grow increasingly uneasy. The woman's face showed no emtion, and Sam couldn't read which was the results were going.   
Finally, the last vote was cast, and the room was still and tense.   
The woman spoke, and T'Challa grew even more tense. Sam chewed his lip anxiously. T'Challa nodded, asnwering in Wakanden. He motioned for them to exit the room, which Sam did nervously.

(To be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will they be allowed to date? Or were they doomed from the start?
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated!!
> 
>  
> 
> -S


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and T'Challa await news of the council vote! Finally, some full on Sam/T'Challa smut as well!

“It was a tie.” T’Challa sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looks exhausted. Sam leans over and kisses him gently on the cheek.   
“It’s not a loss yet, then.”  
“No,” he smiles lightly. “Not a loss.”  
Sam kisses him for a few seconds before the door opens. T’Challa steps back, awkwardly. A woman says something in Wakanden to him before closing the door.   
T’Challa sighs. “They will revote tomorrow.” Sam groans.   
“Come on, we’ve been waiting to know forever.” T’Challa nods, but then smiles.  
“They haven’t technically said no yet, so…”  
“So?”  
“So it would not be criminal if you returned to my cabin with me.” Sam broke into a grin. He had only been released from the hospital this morning, and had immediately been swept up in getting the council’s approval. He slid his hand into his boyfriend’s.  
“Lead the way, kitten.” T’Challa rolled his eyes.   
“More cat jokes? Really Sam, that’s childish.”  
“Won you over.” Sam said, shrugging. They walked back to the cabin, bickering, completely missing Steve and Bucky hiding suspiciously behind the potted plants by the council’s room.   
“God damn it, I just want them to be official already.” Steve cursed, stepping out into the open hallway.   
“Language!” Bucky joked. Steve glared at him and he laughed. “Oh come one, of course the council is going to say yes. Sam is a great guy.”  
“You guys are pathetic,” Clint said, opening a door across the hall. Wanda and Scott spilled out behind him. “Potted plants? Amateur hiding place.”  
“You guys were extra curious too?” Wanda asked, smirking.   
“I’ve been waiting like, a week.” Steve complained. “I want Sam to be happy.”  
Clint nodded. “They’re my OTP too, Steve.” Steve made a sour face.   
“What the hell is an Oh tee pee?” 

 

Unbeknownst to the nosy ex-Avengers, Sam and T’Challa had made it back to T’Challa’s quarters. As soon as the door was close, T’Challa shoved Sam against it.   
“Let us hope there will be no interruptions this time.” He said before kissing Sam, who nodded as he kissed back. They kissed for a bit, tongues being refamiliarized, and sam slid his hands under T’Challa’s shirt, feeling his toned stomach. He slid his hands up further, brushing over hardened nipples and earning a soft moan from T’Challa. Their kiss broke long enough to quickly take their shirts off before T’Challa pushed Sam desperately back against the door.  
“Bedroom?” Sam gasped, breaking for air. T’Challa nodded, pulling him by the arm. Sam practically tackled T’Challa onto the bed, kissing him fiercely. He felt the other man growing hard underneath him, and he stopped to palm T’Challa’s erection through his pants. T’Challa hissed in pleasure before reaching to unbutton Sam’s pants. They shoved pants roughly down before deepening the kiss again, still kicking their pants off their ankles. Their lips grew clumsily, teeth clacking together and tongues sloppily wrestling as they grew more desperate, grinding their hips together and moaning at the friction.   
Sam slid T’Challa’s underwear down, exposing his long dark cock. He grasped it, giving it a few experimental tugs and feeling pleased at the loud groan he received in return. T’Challa made quick work of Sam’s underwear, and his hand found his lover’s cock as well. Sam moaned as T’Challa jerked him off, thumbing the slit and spreading precum down his length.   
“Do you want to-“  
“God yes.” Sam answered, cutting him off with a kiss.  
“Top or bottom?”  
Sam glanced at the thick cock in his hand. He had never done this before, but wanted it, badly.   
“Bottom.”  
T’Challa reached over into the bedside table, retrieving a bottle of lube. He spread it on his fingers before flipping them over so Sam was on the bottom. He teased around his whole with a lubed finger gently. Sam tensed up automatically at the foreign feeling. He felt sensitive down there, more than he had expected.   
“Relax, Sam,” T’Challa said, kissing him sensuously. Sam did, and felt a finger slip inside. The feeling was uncomfortable, but not painful. T’Challa moved it in and out slowly, moving it deeper everytime. Just as Sam felt used to the sensation, T’Challa curled his finger and Sam saw stars.   
“Ahhh,” He moaned as T’Challa brushed his prostate. T’Challa looked smug as he repeated in until Sam felt stretched enough for another finger. He slipped a second inside, and Sam felt a slight burn and discomfort as he was stretched. Talented fingers found that magic spot again quickly, and the burn was quickly replaced by waves of pleasure. Sam groaned as T’Challa fucked him with his fingers, scissoring him and prepping him for a third. Sam was ready when the third was added, feeling less uncomfortable as the pleasure took over, fingers grazing that special spot every few moments. Finally, T’Challa slipped his fingers out and coated his cock with lube. Sam went to roll over, but T’Challa stopped him.   
“I want to be able to see your face.”  
Sam nodded breathlessly. He slid a pillow under Sam to make a better angle before lining up. Sam moaned low as T’Challa pushed in, thicker than his fingers had been, and pushing in so much further. T’Challa waited a few moments as Sam adjusted, not starting until Sam began moving his hips.   
“Challa, please.”  
T’Challa began to fuck him, moving slowly and shallowly at first before moving on to deeper thrusts. Sam moaned as he brushed his prostate, and T’Challa shifted so he hit it on almost every thrust. The room filled with the sounds of panting and moaning, followed by the wet slap of skin as the lovers grew closer to their finish. Sam started jerking himself off, timing it with T’Challa’s thrusts as T’Challa started moving more irregularly.   
Sam moaned and threw his head back, moaning loudly as he finished, with T’Challa following moments later.   
They lay there for a few moments, panting returning to normal breathing.   
“That was amazing.” Sam said, and T’Challa chuckled.   
“You are amazing,” He said, slipping out and kissing his lover. He walked over to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and coming back to clean them both up. After throwing it in the hamper, T’Challa slid into the bed beside Sam, who had made himself comfortable already. They cuddled close to each other, and Sam laid his head on his lover’s chest.  
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” He asked, listen to the steady heartbeat below his head.   
“I am confident that the council will approve of us.” T’Challa said, pulling Sam closer. The pair drifted off to sleep, holding each other tight, because tomorrow could bring anything.

 

T’Challa was awake before the sun, leaving his lover’s side regretfully. Sam stirred, reaching for him.   
“It’s too early for that.” He mumbled, reaching for T’Challa sleepily. “Come back to bed.”  
“I am going for a run, love.”   
“You’re gonna miss out on morning sex,” Sam complained. T’Challa chuckled, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.   
“I am sure you will still desire sex after my run.” Sam nodded, pulling the cover more tightly around himself. He hadn’t slept so good in ages, and if he tried, perhaps he could return to that dream…  
Sam dozed off happily, and T’Challa dressed quickly in his workout clothes before heading up to the roof to run. He nodded at Sam as he passed, noting the fading hickey’s down the Captain’s neck. He felt pleased that he had correctly guessed that Sam and Bucky were in love.

 

Sam woke up to an empty bed, and groped hopefully for T’Challa, who was yet to return. He got out of bed, grumbling at the early hour. He couldn’t sleep as well when Challa wasn’t there, so he got up to shower and get dressed.   
He walked out into T’Challa’s quarters, hoping to make some coffee, when he heard a noise outside the room. A grin broke over his face, and he cared his empty mug with him to greet his boyfriend. “T’Challa?” He asked, opening the door hopefully.  
Instead, he was met with a foul-smelling vapor sprayed into his face. Sam coughed, falling forward into the arms of the masked men in front of him, the mug smashing onto the floor, forgotten. 

 

T’Challa returned to the room after a fifteen-mile run, sweaty but pleased. He wanted to grab a quick shower before climbing back into bed with Sam. He stopped, the door to his quarters open. There was what appeared to be a coffee cup broken on the floor, just inside.   
“Sam?” T’Challa called out nervously. Maybe his boyfriend had dropped the cup and was just looking for something to clean up with?  
The room was silent. He rushed into the bedroom, which was empty. Sam’s clothes from yesterday were gone; he must’ve gotten dressed. T’Challa rushed through his quarters, with no sign of Sam other than a wet towel and a broken coffee mug.   
T’Challa cursed in Wakanden, rushing to call the Dora Milaje. None of them had seen Sam in hours. Panicked, he ran to Sam’s room in the avenger’s quarters when he got a call. One of the Dora Milaje had gone over the video feed.

Sam had been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm cruel.
> 
> Just trying to keep things exciting!!
> 
> Kudos and comments are well loved and appreciated!
> 
> -S


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I would have updated sooner, but my professor changed the date of my final and I missed it, so I've been a bit stressed. Kudos, subscriptions and comments made me smile though :)

Sam blinked wearily, the bright light hurting his eyes. His head pounded dully, and his mouth felt bone-dry. His wrists were sore and his shoulders felt odd, and when he tried to move them he felt why: his hands were handcuffed behind his back. He wiggled his shoulders, trying to get some blood flowing and to ease up on the dull ache that radiated from them.   
Sam looked around him, confused. He was in a white room, with a large mirror covering one wall. He was seated in a metal chair with his hands bound behind him, and in front of him was a metal table and a matching chair on the other side. The door clicked open, and Sam whirled his head to try and see who was coming in.   
“Awake at last, Mr. Wilson?” a voice with a thick Wakandan accent asks. A tall man stands in front of him, looking him over clinically.   
“Who are you?” Sam asks. “Where am I?”  
“You will find we are the ones asking the questions here.”  
“Did you write your will, because my boyfriend, the Black Panther, will not be happy with this,” Sam goaded. “And neither will Captain America, or the couple of master assassins that will be coming for me too.”  
“They will not find you here.” The man said confidently.   
“Bull shit.” Sam said. “Did you not here me? The Black Panther AND a bunch of ex-avengers are gonna kick your ass.”  
The man looked seriously annoyed. “Mr. Wilson, you are aware you are a fugitive of your country, correct?”  
Sam gulped. Even just thinking about it left a pit in his stomach. “Yeah.”  
“So you know that if you do not cooperate, I could turn you over to the United States and you would never see the outside of a prison again?” Sam felt cold all over. He had just stopped seeing the raft every time he closed his eyes, he couldn’t go back, not ever…  
“What do you want?” Sam asked, jaw clenched.  
“I want you to break the King’s heart.”  
Sam sputtered. “Why would I do that?”  
“If the world was suddenly privy to the fact that the ex-avengers were in Wakanda, you would need to leave to avoid an international incident. And with nowhere left to turn too…” The man smiled cruelly. “Super max prison would be the only place that would take you in.”  
Sam tried to swallow, but his mouth felt startlingly dry. “Why do you want me to break up with T’Challa?”  
“We want royalty to come from our own people,” the man hissed. “A Wakandan, preferably a member of the white gorilla clan.” Sam nodded. So they were from the White Gorilla Clan, T’Challa had been right. He kept his mouth shut.  
“And if I break up with him, you’ll leave my friends alone?”  
“If you break up with him and push him into the arms of the woman we stationed there.”  
Sam took a deep, shaky breath. He cared for T’Challa, deeply. Given time, he was sure he would come to love him… but he couldn’t put his own happiness before the safety of his friends. Sam and Bucky would be torn apart after barely getting to be together at all, and he couldn’t let Wanda be in a straightjacket again…  
Even so, he couldn’t imagine telling T’Challa he didn’t want to be with him anymore. The pain it would cause him made Sam sick just thinking about it. Besides, the council hadn’t approved him anyways… Sam gulped. He knew what he had to do, and that it would be difficult. He HAD to, though.  
Sam felt tears brimming in his eyes, and blinked quickly, clearing them.   
“I’ll do it,” He said, voice chocked.   
“Excellent.” The man smiled. He reached across the table, and Sam pulled back as he stabbed him with a needle full of clear liquid. Within seconds, Sam’s vision swam and everything went black.

 

The next time he woke up, he was in the hospital in the palace. He looked around, and saw T’Challa in the chair next to the bed, head bowed and deep in thought.   
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Sam teased, his voice coming out rough. Just looking at his beautiful boyfriend and knowing what he had to do was going to kill him inside.   
“Sam.” T’Challa said, a smile gracing his features. Sam stared at his lover, trying to memorize how happy he looked right now.   
“What… What happened?” Sam asked hopefully. Maybe the ex-avengers and T’Challa had gone in, guns blazing, and had defeated the threat.  
“We don’t know… we found you on the side of the road in the jungle, poisoned.”   
Poisoned? Sam felt sick. His captors had tried to make this look like a botched assassination so Sam wouldn’t look suspicious.   
“I was so worried about you.” T’Challa said, reaching over to hold Sam’s hand. The gesture cut Sam straight to the core. He almost let out a sob.   
“When can I leave this hospital?” Sam asked, looking around, noting the woman present outside. There were three Dora Milaje outside his room, and a few woman doctors scurrying around. Anyone of them could be the woman the White Gorilla Clan had placed.   
“As soon as you were awake. The antidote was completely effective.” T’Challa said, smiling. Sam felt nauseous. He didn’t want T’Challa to ever stop smiling.   
“Can we go somewhere… private? To Talk?” Sam said anxiously. He noted that one of the Dora Milaje had flinched at this. Perhaps it was her…  
“Of course.” T’Challa said, smiling warmly. A half hour later, they were on the roof, sitting by the gardens. Sam could see the Dora Milaje standing guard around the roof, just out of earshot. He felt incredibly anxious.   
“T’Challa, there’s something I need to say…” Sam started sadly.

 

 

There had been tears, and begging, but in the end, they left the roof separately. Sam did not fail to notice the one Dora Milaje smile slightly as Sam walked away, face covered in tears and shaking a bit. He left T’Challa sitting there, tears quietly flowing down his face. Alone.   
Sam wiped his face and headed for the avengers quarters. He needed a shower, and some comfort food. The moment he stepped into the shower, a wave of tension released, and Sam stood under the hot spray, shaking. His tears fell freely now, and it felt good to let it all out. When had his life gotten so damn complicated again? He had been so happy after he and T’Challa had confessed their feelings…  
Sam ate nearly silently with the avengers, who were sitting awkwardly around him. The tension was thick: everyone wanted to ask but didn’t want to make him upset. He could feel Wanda trying to sense his thoughts, and he blocked her out. She winced across the table, looking embarrassed.   
“Are you alright?” Steve finally asked gently.  
“I will be.” Sam said, looking down at his food. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.  
He walked back to his room, ignoring the urgent, hushed whispers from the table. As soon as he shut the door, he grinned.

“Hey there kitty cat.”   
T’Challa pulled him into a hug. “That was a clever plan, Sam.” He whispered, holding him tightly against his chest. “Although the fake breakup might not be too believable when you demand that I come to your room at night.”  
“I missed my boyfriend.” Sam said, kissing him softly. T’Challa kissed him back. “Was it hard to sneak away?”  
“Not really.” T’CHalla mused. “I ‘locked’ myself away in my room, so no one is checking up on me, and then I took the old servant’s passageways to get here. None of the current staff knows the passages exist, but my sister and I found them as children.”  
“I’m glad you found them, because now I get to ravage my lovely boyfriend,” Sam said, kissing him.  
“I can not stay long, we have a cover to keep up.” T’Challa chided gently. “Besides,” he whispered low in Sam’s ear, “The sounds of your moans might be a bit suspicious.”  
“Tease,” Sam whispered, shoving his lover playfully.   
“So you think it is one of the Dora Milaje?” T’Challa said, changing the subject fluidly. Sam nodded.  
“She seemed a bit too happy at the breakup.”  
“Well, hopefully she reports that the plan is going well to her boss, so we can track the communication.”  
“Hopefully indeed.”  
The pair kissed goodnight before T’Challa snuck through the passageway, leaving Sam alone again. He felt much better after seeing how believable the breakup had been. He didn’t ever want to return to the raft, but how could he lose T’Challa after all of this? They would find a way, together.


End file.
